Tides of Torment (Immortal Realms Book 2)
Tides of Torment: Chapter 16

HMS Speedwell was a beautiful ship, a true gem in Travion’s navy. She cut through the water seamlessly, her white sails capturing the wind without a tear or rip in sight, and the hull a gleaming dark teal against the clear blue waters of the sea.

But she was no Saorsa. Sereia would have been envious if she didn’t love her ship so dearly. It wasn’t the Speedwell that brought her and the crew freedom they sought so often.

Only one full day at sea, and it had already grated sorely upon Sereia’s nerves. Being but a passenger on the deck of this naval vessel chafed at her spirits and rankled her fury into an almost living thing. She tried her best to be content with the journey but found even the crew of the ship so efficient, any attempts at lending a hand were automatically shot down.

The Lady Sereia was a guest of His Majesty, not a humble crewman.

Seated on top of a barrel, leaning against the wooden wall at her back, Sereia watched Adrik catch a hard chunk of loaf tossed at his head by a Speedwell crew member with a laugh. Adrik had insisted on coming along this time, not wanting to be left out of the adventure. So Chailai had been left in command of their crew. Behind him, Yon tucked into her bowl of chowder, looking casual but keeping a watchful eye on the crew at large. She didn’t take to new people easily. The bowels of the ship hummed with chatter and the clank of spoons against wooden bowls.

“Not hungry?” Travion came to lean against the wall, nodding down at the full bowl of chowder in her hand.

Sereia had helped with the catch because diving into the water to scare fish into the ship’s net was the one thing she could do to assist with their current journey. But her lack of being able to do anything else still chafed. “I’ve eaten enough chowder in my life to fill an entire ship.”

Travion reached over to take the bowl from her hands and replaced it with a bottle of rum instead. Gazing up at him, Sereia lifted a brow in question.

“It’s time for a little fun,” he murmured with a grin, then turned to the crew. “Whoever can beat me in a game of liar’s dice wins a bottle of scotch from my personal stores!” Travion shouted to the room at large, which erupted in cheers and whistles at this battle cry.

Laughing, Sereia shook her head and uncapped the rum to take a deep swig. “Very well, Your Majesty, I’ll hedge that bet.”

After that, it didn’t take very long for the evening meal to be finished and cleaned up. The crew converged on the deck with bottles, cups, and dice aplenty. One of the deckhands brought out her fiddle and began to play. The uplifting melody swirled through the air along with the clatter of dice rolling over the deck and the cackles of delighted sailors as they drank and gambled their concerns away.

After losing nearly her full pocket of coin to Travion, Sereia finally accepted defeat and left the circle of liar’s dice to wander the deck, coming to stand at the bow. Listening to the slosh of the waves below, she sighed and let some of the tension slip from her shoulders. While it was hard to relinquish control, Sereia could admit that it was good for her crew to have the break. And while he was still present, Adrik was looking more relaxed and rested, not having to fulfill his first mate duties.

A wild cheer rose up behind her, and Sereia turned to look over her shoulder. A number of men were clapping the boatswain on the back, while Travion’s hands were lifted in the air, his head bowed in reverent loss.

Sereia turned back to the water, inhaling deeply the salt on the breeze and letting it lift her hair off her shoulders to dance behind her. She had always known that Travion was beloved. The people of Midniva were happy and content, enjoying their cups and their dances, with fair taxes and enough crops to go around. But she had never truly seen Travion with his men. Not in this capacity.

Her heart felt pained, as if she were missing out on something she’d never even known she had. Could a life with him be happy? Could it be enough?

She felt him before she heard him. “You let him win, didn’t you?”

Travion slid up beside her, leaning forward with his arms on the rail. “There was something more enticing over here.”

Turning, Sereia leaned toward him. “Is that so?” she murmured.

“It is.” Travion moved in a little closer.

Sereia’s breath caught slightly at the nearness, and she wished the crew and the ship were many miles away so that she could give in to the draw of Travion. He made the pain in her heart both increase and lessen. Her body and her spirit yearning for a physical connection between them. To feel connected to Travion, even if for only a moment. “Should I tell him it was a hollow win?”

Travion growled, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer to him. “Why you—”

“Oy! Captain!”

Their eyes, which had been trained on each other, narrowed at the interruption before they turned to glare down at Adrik, who didn’t even bother having the decency to look contrite.

“Yes, Adrik?” Sereia snarled.

“I’ve been telling the boys how great a dancer you are, and they seem to be having a hard time believing me.” His eyes gleamed with delight, and his lips twitched with amusement.

Sereia’s eyes narrowed further, and she could feel a tick in her jaw. She was fully aware of what her first mate was up to. “And?”

“And it had me thinking, Captain, that you should prove them all wrong.” His smirk was broad and proud, a defiant light within their depths. The defiant light became a dare, and he held out his hand to her.

She wanted to kick that smirk clean off his face and watch it sail over the horizon. However, she cast Travion a look for their lost moment, then jumped down off the foredeck to land before Adrik and claim his outstretched hand. A shout rang out for a lively tune, and as the music claimed the night, Sereia leaped into the song, dark hair swirling around her shoulders as her knees skipped and her feet tapped quickly over the deck. Those not entirely caught up in their gambling soon joined in, and the deck came alive with dancing forms.

It was hard to remain frustrated when she was letting herself be swept up in the moment—something her first mate was more than aware of. While it wouldn’t chase away all her irritation at being rendered useless aboard someone else’s ship, it would help ease the tide of her storm before she unleashed it on some undeserving deckhand.

Adrik’s eyes gleamed back at her in victory. “There’s a happy Captain.” He did nothing but bow out in satisfaction when Travion cut in to claim her for the next dance.

Paying him little heed after that, Sereia pressed her palms down into Travion’s upturned hands and let him swing her around as a new melody filled the air. Those along the railing of the boat had forgotten their dice for the time being and began to clap or stomp their feet to the tune.

Someone in the crow’s nest sang along to the jive with a lovely deep baritone that was soon joined by a willing tenor.

Through the crowd, Sereia noticed Yon approach Finn. While she could not hear what was said, she saw a shift on Finn’s face from serious to surprised. The two then moved out into the midst of the dancers to join in.

Grinning to herself, she returned her attention to Travion, letting herself simply enjoy this moment.

Travion’s eyes were a deep blue, sparkling back at her with a levity that she hadn’t seen within them for many a day. It was only during this most recent trip back to Midniva that Sereia had taken note of the sorrow in them. Had she never spent enough time truly studying them to realize they were typically so sad behind the glint of merriment he presented to the world?

Now, however, they shone with glee as his quick footwork carried them over the deck of the Speedwell. At some point, Sereia could only tip her head back and let her laughter spill into the night sky.

When their song had concluded, Captain Darragh cut in, and from there, Sereia was passed from one member of the ship to another until her feet hurt and her legs felt like jelly. At long last she called for a ceasefire and collapsed onto the deck, propped up against a barrel.

Soon someone was pressing a bottle into her hand, and she poured liquid fire down her throat, heating her belly and causing her continued panting to exit on a wheeze.

“I’d say you did a fair job proving them wrong, Captain,” Adrik chuckled from above her.

Kicking out with one foot, Sereia caught him on the ankle.

Yelping, Adrik jumped back, lifting the injured foot up a little. He laughed deeply.

“I can’t feel my feet.”

“They seem to be kicking just fine,” he shot back.

Travion had come to lean on the railing near them, an elbow resting back against it as his other arm lifted a sloshing bottle of rum to his lips. “Reminds me of the time Zryan tried to dance his way into a maiden’s bed, only to wind up with her mother.”

“What?” Sereia laughed. “How does this circumstance remind you of that?”

“He nearly danced his feet clean off as well.”

“Well, you can’t leave off there, sire,” Adrik interjected.

A smile slid over Sereia’s lips as she watched Travion fall into the role of storyteller. He took another sip of rum and then swiped the back of his hand across his lips before he began.

“It was the early days, after Ludari was tossed into his watery grave, and Draven, Zryan, and I were attempting to bring peace and joy to the kingdom once more. There were many a party and soiree in that day. Zryan’s thought was, if everyone was enjoying themselves, they would forget to hate each other.”

Sereia snorted. She’d continued to hate plenty of the snub-nosed pincushions who’d looked down on her for her disinterest in the marriage market, despite the fun she was having at their balls. Though, perhaps the issue had been her displeasure in attending the balls in the first place. Her mother’s attempts to foist her onto an available noble hadn’t helped matters any.

She’d aimed for the Lucemite royals at one point, thrusting her before Prince Ruan, who, in his stormy, indelicate manner had wasted no time in telling both of them he had no desire to be wed. It amused her now to think that she’d gone from one displeased prince to his uncle, and there had found her proposal.

“A sentiment I can stand behind,” Adrik said. He hopped up on top of a barrel, his hands resting on the edge of it between his spread thighs.

He reminded Sereia of a young lad, caught on every word of an older, more experienced boy. In many ways, he would always be that lost boy to her, seeking out a place to belong and replaceing it with a group of swarthy pirates who took him in and made him their own.

“This one particular night, Zry had set his sight on a young maiden who was the center of many a male’s fancy. Once he managed to get her to accept a dance with him, he thought the best way to keep her away from any other male in the room was to keep her dancing. So that is what he did.”

Sereia shook her head, sipping at her bottle.

“But with much dancing comes great thirst. So, with each spin around the room, either myself or Draven would exchange his empty glass of wine for a full one, until he was so knackered, he could barely stand. It was at this point I swept the mother of the maiden onto the dance floor and then swapped her out for the girl instead of the wine. I don’t think he even noticed until the next morning, after staggering off the dance floor with the mum and waking with her in his bed.” Travion was smirking as he finished his tale, and Adrik was chuckling in appreciation.

“I am going to go out on a limb and assume His Highness never did end up with the maiden?” Sereia grinned.

“Oh no, he pulled some Zryan nonsense and still bedded her as well.”

Adrik hooted in pleasure and slapped his thigh. “And you make the peerage sound boring and stuffy!” he crowed at Sereia. “Sounds like a grand time.”

Sereia rolled her eyes at her first mate. “Yes, and the last time you had a truly great time with some of the peerage, you wound up hanging by your boots from a tree. I’ve already vowed never to save you from one again, remember that.” She tipped her bottle at him.

Grinning broadly, Adrik winked at her, slid from the barrel, and bowed to Travion, then walked away to lose some of his coin in a game of dice.

A contemplative look crossed Travion’s face, though not an unpleasant one. “You seem quite close,” Travion murmured, sliding down to sit beside her on the deck. “Have the two of you ever . . .”

“Adrik and I?” Sereia’s brow shot up, and she laughed darkly, wrinkling her nose. “For sea’s sake, no.” She shook her head, watching Adrik for a moment as he laughed and slapped one of the sailors on the back. “In many ways, he’s the little brother I never had.”

Travion’s arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her into his side. Content to be tucked in against his sturdy frame, Sereia leaned her head back against his shoulder. His nearness brought a sense of peace that was often missing in her life these days. It was unsettling, being made to feel so calm by someone else.

Cries of surprise broke out from the middle of the ship, capturing her attention, as Lefyr began to dance a jig well known in the inns and taverns of Midniva. Clapping along to the fiddle, the crew cheered him on until he had finished the lively dance.

“That was splendid! Where did you learn that?” one of the sailors asked him.

“My mother taught me. She always grieved for the daughter she never had and forced me to endure hours of dancing.”

“Oh, is that so?” Travion called out to him, earning a sheepish look from the healer. “A pity your mother wound up with you instead,” he teased. “What is your family name?”

“Sebdula,” he responded.

Travion arched a brow. “As in Adavu Sebdula?”

Lefyr nodded, dragging his hand along his sweat-slicked brow. “He is a healer in the castle.” His expression turned to one of smugness. “How is His Highness these days?”

There was silence over the deck, and then the sailors laughed. One gave Lefyr’s shoulder a squeeze, and they returned to their dancing and drinking.

“Does this mean Trask is dead?” Sereia asked quietly, laughing a little. She turned her head to peer at Travion, who shook his head, a gleam in his eye.

“You’ll replace he’s as impossible to kill as I am.” He then captured her lips, effectively silencing any further comments.